


The Basilica

by aureliu_s



Category: The Borgias
Genre: F/M, Save my son Ascanio, Slow Burn, still debating romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureliu_s/pseuds/aureliu_s
Summary: When lightning strikes St. Peter's during a mass, the chaos and turmoil reign supreme over the Borgia papacy.





	The Basilica

**Author's Note:**

> MORE AÏDA. Woops sorry. This takes places in 2x05 when the lightning strikes St. Peter's Basilica.

She barely had time to register what happened. Her eyes were on Ascanio, kneeling in front of the Pope, and the College of Cardinals draped in their white robes. It was storming outside, thundering and raining. The lightning flickered through the windows of the Basilica.

And then there was a crack.  
All eyes turned to the ceiling, waiting, pondering, disregarding until it all began to fall. The ceiling caved and with it the chunks of brick and heavy plaster, the stone came tumbling down onto the altar. People at once began screaming and turned towards the doors, running, tripping, falling, dying. The wood beams began to fall too, cracking open and crushing those beneath. Decorated pillars against the walls broke off and broke any who weren't fast enough to leave their path.  
Dirt and dust fell in storms from the ceiling. She stared, dazed, until a violent tug on her arm compelled her backwards.  
"Come, Aïda!" Her mother's voice rang out. She blindly followed, running after her family, the screams of the dying and frightened filling the space between the monstrous cracks and creaks of the Basilica. At the doors she turned and ripped herself from her mother's grip, scanning the debris for red robes.  
"Aïda we must /go/!" Her father roared, hooking an arm around her waist.   
"No--no! He's still inside," she wailed, bracing against the door as the Basilica shook again. Thunder rocked the earth beneath her.   
"The Pope will be protected by God," her mother said sternly, pulling her outside into the rain.  
But it was not the Pope she was concerned about.

Her parents and her sister disappeared into the crowd, leaving her to soak alone on the steps of St. Peter's.

The crowd slowly, slowly stepped back, off the steps, off the plateau entryway, shivering and huddling together. She turned to survey the collection of Cardinals behind her.  
"Is Cardinal Sforza with you? Did he emerge?" She asked them pleadingly. They only shook their heads and crossed themselves. No Ascanio. No good Sforza against the rest; no Vice Chancellor.   
The crowd shed its concerned eyes on her; a madwoman.   
Staring at the blackness behind the thrown open doors of St. Peter's, she could only imagine the possibilities.   
So she ran. Across the plateau entryway to the Basilica and through the threshold.  
"Cardinal Sforza?" She called timidly, the echo of her voice sounding throughout the ruined Basilica. "Holy Father!"  
No reply. She stepped delicately over and around the debris, the bodies lining the floor.   
"Oh God, oh God please be alive, God please preserve him-"  
A bold white figure stirred and pushed itself up to stand.  
"Cardinal!" She held her skirt in one hand and trotted cautiously towards him. His dazed eyes turned towards her as she hugged him tightly, the dust sifting from his hair. He stumbled back and stared at the spewed stone and wood, strewn bodies of the innocent.   
Dumbly, he wrapped one arm around her.  
"Ascanio," she breathed, curling her fingers into his hair. "You are alive. Are you hurt? We must get you out of here before lightning strikes again."  
"The Pope...the Pope." He mumbled.  
"He is here, Ascanio." She assured him. "Come."  
"Aïda," he pulled back and looked at her in wonder. To their right, a man clothed in white silk stood on shaky knees. "Aïda." A rough hand found its way to her cheek, and with a sigh of clarity pressed her forehead to his.  
She felt her cheeks flush hot and waited a long minute before carefully taking a half step back.  
"Should we say their last rites?" She gestured carefully to the bodies around the Basilica. She watched as his brown eyes widened and surveyed the cathedral, mumbled words of Latin flowing from his mouth.  
"Was it a sign from God, Cardinal Sforza?" The Pope asked behind them.

  
Ascanio closed his eyes before turning to Rodrigo.   
"No, Your Holiness." His voice had returned to its normal level ness. "It was a bolt of lightning."


End file.
